(An Open Letter Regarding My 20’s)
I suppose it is difficult to believe that in less than 24
hours I will bid farewell to my twenties.
Standing on the far-edge of this decade, I’m inclined to reminisce of
yesteryear. My twenties. I can scarcely remember my twentieth
birthday, but can recall rejoicing the end of my teen era. It must have been a bittersweet twentieth
birthday for I so loved my teen years.
The four short years of high school were some of the most enjoyable and
busy times of my life. Even so, I know I
must have looked forward to a new beginning in a new decade.
By the time I was twenty, I would have been in my second
year of college. Three very fast years
later, I would graduate the University of Oregon with my Master’s degree in
Education. Most of my memories from
those five years are closely related to the roommates, and friendships, I
had. I will never forget moving into my
first apartment with my best friend, Kristen.
We had many a trial in Blackstone Manor, which we affectionately dubbed
“Crackstone.” I fondly remember Kristen
remarking at one point, “Where do they get off calling this place a
manor?!” From the closets that reeked of
marijuana, to our neighbors “Blaze,” and Chris, and their awful, loud music,
the endless stash of cookie dough that lived in our fridge, stir-fry night
after night, and half gallons of HRD vodka mixed with frozen orange juice
concentrate. Never again will I be able
to delight in a “screwdriver.” No memory
of Crackstone is complete without including the drunken person who crashed
through my window in the early hours of the morning, or Brian, the twenty-two
year old apartment “manager,” who was only interested in living rent-free. The stories could go on and on, but like the
stories, Kristen and I, too, eventually moved on. We left Crackstone in search of a bigger
piece of real estate in which we could settle with our other friends Kristina,
and Krista. The obvious joke here was
that I could only enjoy others’ company if their name started with a K. I always felt like the odd one out on our
landline answering machine, “Hello, you’ve reached the home of Kristen, Krista,
Kristina and Judy…” Living with four
girls was a special kind of experience.
Looking back now, I can laugh at all of the silly squabbles and petty
tiffs that we had. Mostly, I will
remember how impossible it was to heat that house. The heating cost was too great, even split
between the four of us, and so we mostly spent our time huddled in our beds, in
sweats and slippers. I believe I even
went so far as to buy footie pajamas one year!
It was in this house, that I learned to fall asleep to my sweet friend,
Kristina talking to her mom on the phone every night at nine o’clock. It’s amazing that we lived in that house for two
years and still remain friends to this day.
Kristen and I returned to apartment living again after that. We moved into 19th and Cool and
resided there for Kristen’s final year at UO, and my penultimate year. This living arrangement seems to have fewer
stories, as Kristen was gone much of the time, and I must have been
sleeping. Once Kristen moved out, my
college friend Erin moved in. Here we
devoted our nights to Jeopardy, Wheel of Fortune, heating pads, and Totino’s
pizzas. Yes, we were accused of acting
like sixty-year olds on more than one occasion…not that there’s anything wrong
with that! This July, I will serve as
Erin’s maid of honor, and am so thrilled to stand beside her on her special
day. Since living with her, I truly
understand just how important her wedding day will be to her. She has wanted it for oh, so, long. It was during this time, as well, that I met
three folks from Maryland and embarked on a cross-country trip with two of
them. That trip was certainly one for
the memory books. In fact, that entire
summer was something worth remembering.
It was the first time I had floated the river in Eugene, and lo and
behold, we floated the wrong direction.
Perhaps, the wrong direction is slightly inaccurate. The mix-up occurred in where we put our tubes
in the water, and where we got out.
Suffice it to say, we got out of the river probably 10 miles down river
from where we put our tubes in. Oops!
After I graduated with my Master’s degree, I fell into a bit
of a slump. My parents graciously
allowed me to move home while I searched for employment. I had job interviews here and there, but
nothing really took. The rejection calls
kept coming. This was extremely
challenging for me to handle and I sunk into a very dark place. It turns out, I don’t do well with
rejection. If there had been any
question, after numerous heart breaks in my early twenties, it was solidified
the summer of my twenty-third year. The
dark place swallowed me up whole, rendering me paralyzed in bed for days at a
time, erupting into tears at random times, and having no appetite or will to
want to care for myself. Thank God my
parents had the wherewithal to get me to our family physician. I basically fought every urge to resist their
demands for me to go to the doctor. I
knew I was having problems. But, knowing
you’re having problems and admitting that to a doctor, let alone the outside
world, was something else entirely. I
didn’t much want my family to know I was having these problems, much less a
doctor! In a word, the doctor’s answer:
anti-depressant. You probably saw that
one coming! The signs and symptoms were
obvious. It felt like overnight the
medication started kicking in, and slowly, and steadily, I climbed out of the
darkness. I spent the year substitute
teaching, which looking back, was a great gig!
By the end of the year, I had found gainful employment back in Eugene,
where I wanted to be, and under doctor’s supervision, took myself off of
medication. That was a difficult year,
but I’m so thankful to have had my family to get me through it. Still, to think of that year, even now, can
make me emotional.
Back in Eugene, I got myself a cute little two bedroom
apartment and started work at The Child Center.
Now, here was a teaching job I had never envisioned. After the first week, I thought, “What have I
gotten myself into?” But, I still have
that thought, in my current position, so perhaps it had less to do with The
Child Center and more to do with my thought processes. The thing that I loved about The Child Center
was my supervisor. She was incredible at
her job. She was the most supportive,
reasonable, caring, thoughtful, understanding, intelligent, funny, supervisor I
have had to date. She truly was amazing
at her job. Once I stabilized myself in
this classroom, I felt like I could handle any kid, and any teaching job, there
could possibly be. The difficulty with
working at The Child Center was that there was never any break. We worked all year long. Those were some very long years. During my last two years with The Child
Center, budget cuts forced teachers out of the classroom during summer
months. I had never been happier. Of course, because I also did not make a
legitimate wage while working for The Child Center, I had to find alternate
employment in the summers. This is where
I ended up working with an agency out of Portland, teaching Chinese exchange
students three weeks out of the summer.
The first summer doing this, I practically ended up coordinating, and
planning the program, delivering instruction, and being the contact person for
parents. I had no clue what I was doing,
or why I was in charge of quite literally…everything. I cannot forget that I also housed an
exchange student and a chaperone for two weeks, as well. I’m not entirely sure how I did it. I just remember laughing about every single
little thing. That program was
unbelievable and the hits just kept on a’comin! Now, that was an emotionally
draining summer!
My late twenties brought about the passing of two of my
uncles, and what seemed like an endless series of heartbreaks. I lost one uncle on my mom’s side and one on
my dad’s side. The passing of my uncle
on my father’s side hit me pretty hard.
I can make some theories as to why this is, but that is neither here nor
there. Let it be said that that was a
challenging period that brought many things into question for me. The result of my questioning lead my cousin,
Jason and I, to go on a two week trip to Costa Rica. We visited eight, or nine, different cities
and traveled from the west coast to the east coast. This trip was amazing. It left me wanting to travel more and
more. Still, when I think of it, I have
a desire to go back…or, to go somewhere!
Then, there was the trail of tears after one “boy” to the next. It felt like I was trapped in some version of
a sick, twisted middle school torture series.
To protect the names of the not-so-innocent, I’ll resort to using first
initials. First there was, K1. Let’s face it, he was quite a scoundrel. I’m not sure we ever really had much of a
chance at building anything worth building.
Perhaps he saw that and let me go.
I’ve heard that he has been arrested a couple of times in the last
couple of years, so, for him to have walked out of my life, I thank him. Let us all take a moment to remember V. What a train wreck that whole situation
was. I always recollect him at this time
of year. After all, that birthday
present from 4 years ago is bound to show up one of these days, right!? According to him, yes. FedEx has it on it’s way. Insert eye roll here* Then, there was J1, and while a lovely man,
very thoughtful, and an excellent listener, he still broke my heart to little
bits and pieces. I hear, and see,
through his mother’s facebook page that he is doing well. Then, the next major one was K2. (Ha, look at
the irony of that name and situation!) A
reconnection with him sparked a hopefulness in me that had long been dead. But,
actually, nothing there worked out either, except for one delightfully blissful
weekend in December. Lastly, J2. I’m not even sure what to say about him. I didn’t really know him, and I think, now,
that he might have mental capabilities may be compromised? It’s been a long, and arduous, journey down
the love lane. I am pleased to say that
I am leaving my twenties with a new man, who has seen me through a lot of this
past year of twenty-something. I hope
he’ll choose to stay awhile.
Last summer was an especially exciting one, as I finally
landed a job in general education teaching language arts. I have long wanted a language arts teaching
position, and finally, with perfect timing, I got it. Somedays I still can’t believe that I am
doing the thing I love doing everyday. I
love the people I get to work with, I love the kids (most of them), and feel
like I’m getting more adept at what I’m doing everyday. The late part of twenty-nine has finally
given me some hope. I’m hopeful about
what the future may have in store for me.
I’m hopeful for new things to come.
I’m hopeful for new adventures.
I’m open-minded, and ready, for what life has in store. It feels like the last decade, or so, has
prepared me well. With the highs, and
lows, good times, and bad, I have learned much.
I’m packing up my knowledge and taking it with me as I jump-off into my
thirties. For all that I’ve learned, I’m
not actually too sad to leave my twenties behind. In fact, I don’t think I’m sad at all. Hey, twenty-something, don’t let the door hit
ya on your way out.
Twenty Things I Loved About My Turbulent Twenties
Drinking alcohol legally
Graduating with my Bachelor, and Master’s,
degrees
Rooming with Kristen, Krista, Kristina
Rooming with Erin
Cross Country Road Trip to Maryland
Costa Rica with Jason!
Getting a job
Getting a better job
Learning about Chinese culture through my summer
job
Meeting
Maria (supervisor at TCC)
Experience
in managing behaviors from The Child Center
Responsibly
maintaining my first, and only, credit card
Numerous
weddings of friends, and family
The
birth of my third nephew, Jacoby
Identifying
my own skin cancerous lesion, thanks to Kris Anderson’s high school health
class
New
friends I made at college, or in the workplace
Starting
my Oscar party tradition
My
sister moving closer, so we can see each other more often.
Discovering
chicken schwarma, dolmas, and falafel
Participating
in my first half-marathon
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